The Six-Month Reward
by nerdygaycas
Summary: Senior Dean Winchester has been mooning over his English teacher for six months. It's not creepy... it's unorthodox.


**Hi! It's been quite a while since I've posted something hasn't it?**

**I hope you like it. Oh yeah, **

**Dedicated to my Pea :)**

* * *

The teacher is talking about something.

He's probably explaining what's written on the board, some sort of assignment by the looks of it, and the emphasis the teacher is making on the first two lines, it seems pretty important.

But Dean doesn't care. Chewing the end of his pencil, and tapping his foot to the rhythm of an old Metallica song are much more important activities, especially the chewing one.

Ever since their old English teacher had to leave and the new, oh so hot, one came in to fill her place, Dean needs to do something with his mouth, either chewing a pencil or gum or something.

You see, the thing is Dean won't stop licking his lips or casting furtive flirty grins to his teacher when the older man makes eye contact. In fact, every time Dean has done so, the man looks uncomfortable and loses the thread of what he is saying, and if Dean wasn't so satisfied for causing some reaction in the guy, see him befuddled by a tiny little cocky smile, he'd feel sorry for the guy.

And this thing? This crush on the hot teacher? It's been going on for more than five months. It's been five months, hell, maybe even six, since Dean hasn't looked at another person other than his teacher with interest.

Sure, he's no saint, never has been, always sneaking out from class, making out with girls or guys in the janitor's closet, and stuff like that.

However, none of these have been happening since Castiel Novak dictates the English class. With his tie always a mess, his neat cheap suits, and his rough voice straight out from a porn movie reciting Shakespeare with passion and fervor, he's got senior Dean Winchester with a serious case of blue balls.

A slap on his back takes Dean out of his reverie.

The classroom is mostly empty by now. Figures. It's Friday after all, everybody wants to go home, or as far away from school as they can get.

Everyone except Dean. Because weekends mean not seeing the object of his dirty fantasies for two whole days.

"Hey, man. You okay?" asks Benny, amusement written all over his face.

Fuck, he's been even drooling a little if the wetness at the corner of his lip is anything to go by.

"Yeah, yeah. Just... tired"

Benny chuckles and shakes his head like he knows something the rest of the world doesn't. Maybe he knows. Maybe this weird crush isn't as secret as Dean thought it was. Not like he talks of it with anyone because uh weird. Mr. Novak is thirty-two, and no, Dean doesn't know this because he's obsessed. He was just doing some research on the new staff member, checking his Facebook, which apparently gets very little attention from its owner.

"You in for tomorrow, brother?" Benny is still here. Interesting. Dean hadn't noticed. Fuck, he's got no clue what his friend is talking about. All he knows is that Mr. Novak's slacks snug his ass nicely.

Dean nods once. Twice. He's 'in it for tomorrow', whatever Benny was talking about.

Tossing some notebooks in his bag Benny claps his back again and leans closer so that his words don't travel any farther and catch the teacher's ears.

"Forget it, brother. It's creepy the amount of staring you give the teacher. Besides, dude's like thirty-five."

"He's thirty-two." Dean blurts out without thinking. Now he's really given it away, hasn't he? Might as well continue to defend this bizarre one-sided monogamous relationship he's being having for almost six solid months. "And it isn't creepy, it's just, you know... unorthodox"

"Really, brother? You been expanding your English knowledge lately, your lexicon? Trying to impress the teacher with hard work and dedication?" and now the bastard's really fighting a cackle.

Dean knows Benny means no harm, they guy's a friggin' teddy bear made out of marshmallows, and maybe, just maybe it _is_ kinda funny how his entire world is changing because of the English teacher. Still, it's annoying.

"Oh, fuck off, Benny!"

The taller teenager is already heading for the door, leaving Dean all by himself. It is amazing Dean hadn't noticed Mr. Novak had already left. He was too busy defending his honor.

As Dean drags himself out of the classroom he notices the board is white stark, no hints of the project or whatever it was.

It was important though, Cas' voice had stressed out several points, perhaps even saying it was obligatory to hand in the whatever-the-fuck to get the final score or something? _Fuck._

Running to get to a person before they leave isn't as fun as the movies show, lucky thing Castiel's office isn't so far from the classroom. Taking a few deep breaths and clearing his throat Dean knocks twice on the door.

He awaits patiently forming sentences in his mind, trying to give shape to incoherent thoughts. Feet shifting awkwardly Dean knocks again. Nothing.

Castiel can't be gone.

But he is.

The janitor tells him so as he mops the floors with a crooked-back, his movements slow and frail.

Not even the cool spring gusts of air can placate his bitchy mood. Sure, the air smells of fresh grass and wet soil, and it's limpid and vigorating, filling him with energy, yet Dean only exhales this grudge feeling that churns his stomach with acid.

Stupid Benny, for taking away those precious staring moments before the weekend. Stupid Castiel Novak for not wanting to take the first step when the guy's obviously flustered with everything Dean does. Damn Castiel with his perfect everything giving Dean a hard-on right before recess on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Fucking Cas for not leaving his mind for more than 74 seconds. Dean's counted. He's well and truly fucked.

Without leaving space for any hesitation or second thoughts, Dean turns abruptly the course of the Impala as he heads home. Taking this street straight 'til the end, then turning left, then left once more, and counting, one, two, three, four.

He's parked outside a cute one-story bungalow with a nice verandah and a garden taken straight out from one of those Martha Stewart's magazines. There's a red car on the driveway, the red modern piece of crap Mr. Novak drives to school.

And he's really out of his mind to be doing this at all, isn't he?

Dean doesn't let himself brood over how strange this conversation's gonna go. He opens the door of his baby with a little too dramatic push, just to later apologize to her stroking her smooth edges.

"Just a moment!" comes a voice from the inside. Dean really, really shouldn't be here. It's awkward as fuck and he might be close to run as fast as his feet can carry him, dig a hole in the ground and live there. Hey, he can even adjust it to make it a Hobbit hole, comfortable enough to live in for the rest of his days.

"Sorry, I was... Oh!" Castiel looks taken aback, as if he was already expecting someone. Probably he was, being drop-dead gorgeous and all that, maybe he's got a girlfriend or boyfriend already. Hell, the guy could be married for all Dean knows.

Except he isn't. Dean checked. Thrice.

That Facebook shit? Really handy where stalking is concerned.

"Uh... Mr. Novak, yeah... hi" his voice sounds horrible, so high-pitched and out of use. It's embarrassing.

Cas -no, not Cas. Mr. Novak. _Mr. Novak_- opens the door a tad more and leans in the frame with brow furrowed. "Mr. Winchester. Well, this is... unforeseen"

"Yeah, well... I wanted to… you know" Chastising himself for a thousand years with public humiliation wouldn't even begin to cover the embarrassment he's feeling right now.

"Uh-huh... Sorry but, how do you know where I live?" if Dean would dare to lift his gaze, he'd notice his teacher's eyes radiating amusement rather than the faint judgmental tone his voice implies.

"Janitor" it's the first thing that comes out of his mouth. He doesn't know if Novak hangs out with the janitor, but what the hell, right? And wow, the sleeve of his jacket is looking real interesting at the moment.

"Right" Both of them stay quiet for a while. Dean mute and cemented to the floor. Castiel with slightly parted chapped lips and a sense of secondhand embarrassment for his student, he's starting to feel his face get warmer and his movements feel somewhat restrained. _What_.

"Would you like to come in, Mr. Winchester?" Dean's head snaps up, eyes huge and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah, sure, man. I mean, teacher. Yes. Uh-okay"

The old wood floors creak sometimes beneath his feet, but they're spotlessly clean. Dean takes in everything about the place, from the neutral colors on the walls adorned by black and white photographs, and the bookshelf that displays a respectable collection of works; to the scent of spices whirling in the air and the coziness of every corner and nook. It's almost as if the house was Castiel himself.

Mr. Novak guides him to the living room and offers him the couch while he sits on the sofa chair across him, hands resting on his lap. Dean feels really stupid.

"Mr. Winchester, are you okay?"

"Excellent, just a little rusty"

"What?"

"Nada." Dean gulps and God, are his eyes feeling a tiny bit watery? Fuck no. "I was hmm... wondering. The assignment you l-left us?"

If a few minutes ago Dean couldn't meet this man's eyes now he can't not look at them. They simulate fathomless pools, and he'd be more than happy to get closer, oh so much more closer.

Dean can observe, study and catalogue each expression on his teacher's face; he can be hard to read at times though, take now for example, Dean isn't sure if that look means deflection or weariness.

"Of course. I detected you were lost in thought, far away from my class today. I can't blame you though, it is the last class before a well-deserved weekend after all."

Covering his discomfort with a bashful snicker Dean looks around the room. It's actually a really nice home, charming he'd dare say.

"Nice place"

Cas looks around himself, a tiny smile curling lips. "Thank you. I find it very comfortable. Besides, the proximity to school is priceless. Not to mention the café and the park just a couple of blocks away."

This will make Dean sound like a girl with her first crush but truth be told, there are some wild butterflies partying in his stomach right now.

"It's a small town, Mr. Novak. You'll find most places pretty close at hand"

"True. But, it's still a nice place as you said." Crinkles are forming at the corner of his eyes and his nose, only to remind Dean this not as young as he is, and much older to be a suitable partner, but in reality all Dean can think about is how endearing those lines are.

Remembering the hardly disappointed face of his teacher when he found his senior student standing completely still and artless, Dean mumbles in a rush "You weren't expecting some, were you? Am I interrupting? Because if I am, I'll be on my way"

Castiel does that head tilt Dean utterly adores, the one the teacher uses when a student comes up with an unlikely yet innovative idea. "Not at all."

Silence engulfs them once more before Mr. Novak decides to elaborate "As a matter of fact, I was. I fear, however, my friend isn't going to come anyway. I had forgotten he had left me a message to justify himself."

_Crap, crap, crap. Friend my ass. His boyfriend was coming over. Fuck, fuck. _"That's good, I guess?"

"Indeed! Who in the world chooses a car race over lasagna with an old cantankerous friend? I get to eat more and he gets a sunburn, it's a win-win situation for me."

Dean laughs and laughs, firstly because Mr. Novak isn't one to joke around at school, he's stoic and impassive and passionate but not funny, at least not on purpose; and secondly because his teacher's sense of humor is a little different, sarcastic and actually not so funny, but Dean's got a crush so rainbows and bunnies are born every time Castiel laughs.

"Probably, but there's just so much a guy can eat, and I mean no disrespect, sir, but I doubt you can eat all that lasagna by yourself."

At this Cas narrows his eyes and nods painfully slow. "I guess you're right."

Laughing has gotten him bold, almost careless about his words, but Dean still isn't babbling so all is good.

"Maybe I could help you?" _No, no, the fuck Winchester? He's gonna think you're a crazy ass stalker who's trying to murder him for food and oh fuck fuck fuck_.

"I'd like that." There's a hint of something there, hidden right behind the hypnotic blue but Dean can't put his finger on it. Then he adds, voice rushed and demeanor fidgety. "If... you can and are willing to of course. I wouldn't want to ruin your weekend. Please, do not feel obligated to accept if that wasn't your formal intention."

"Uh... dude. I mean, I mean... Mr. Novak, it's fine. Don't sweat it. It's sorta cool, actually. Really uh good."

Surprisingly enough, having dinner with your smoking hot and slightly odd English teacher isn't half as terrifying as it could be, Dean finds out.

He clang to every word Castiel muttered, paying attention to the relaxed voice which he seldom caught talking about anything else which wasn't related to his subject or school affairs.

As he sits there and looks at Cas, really looks at him, Dean realizes he may be more than crushing on this man. This man who is wonderful and smart and kind-hearted, and who also happens to be almost twice his age.

"I was at this social event to collect funds for charity and my sister, Anna, was the one organizing the whole thing... I, uh may have accidentally said some things to one of her honored guests. In my defense, the aforesaid was a horrible person. He'd been getting on my nerves the whole night."

Cas hasn't finished his portion of lasagna, he's playing with the rest of it and taking little sips at his cold tea, his cheeks have gone a bit rosy and his lips won't let go of a constant easy smile which, if Dean isn't hallucinating, gets a bit wider every time their gazes meet.

"What did you tell him?" Somewhere around school policies and medieval practices, formalities abandoned the conversation without neither of them noticing, such was the practiced comfort they fell into.

Dean leans over the table and grins inciting the older man to answer honestly.

Sporting a look of genuine embarrassment and mortification, Castiel stabs the lasagna with his fork.

"I may have objected to his thick-witted ideas and referred to his obvious lack of intellect by uh... discussing with him in a non-appropriate manner. Of course, none of it was public and I did it only after his hateful treatment towards one of the staff members, but still... Anna wasn't happy despite my good reasons to argue with the man. It cost her a donator, but I managed to raise the necessary funds."

Dean isn't sure if he's allowed to proceed and he's never been terribly good at reading people or anything, that's Sam's area, so he blurts out albeit a little unconfident "What did you two argue about? Was the guy a dick, or what?"

Castiel grimaces at the word election and bluntness of the question but nods, eyes fixed to the wall behind Dean. "You could say that, yes. And about the... topic of discussion, let's just say this: people shouldn't let bigotry blind them, and that mistreating a person based solely on their sexual orientation, well... is just unacceptable."

Dean thinks he's hyperventilating or probably having a stroke, maybe it's all happening inside his head but at the moment his thoughts are only about this splendid man who plays with the rest of a damn well cooked lasagna, and who's declared he's at least not a dick about the whole girls liking girls and boys liking boys shit, so Dean naturally asks "You gay?"

And yeah, he totally shouldn't have said it like that.

He wants to take the words back as soon as they leave his mouth, but Cas is smiling and has a funny look on his face and Dean is going to need treatment because duh Castiel's gonna kill him with everything he is and-

"I am" Dean is still in shock but Cas must have mistaken the expression on his face, eyebrows drawn closer and jaw clenched. "I hope this doesn't represent an inconvenience for you, Mr. Winchester"

Blinking and stepping out of his mental block, Dean becomes aware of the sliver of disappointment and hurt that lies on every crevice of Castiel's face. "No! No, of course not... I mean, how could it? You're, you know, a cool guy" Nope, he still isn't good with words "Actually you're really great. Kind of awesome I dare say, because... you're uh smart. You know, intelligence? Pff, nothing to do with liking to... not being into women, preferring d-dick and uh yeah" he finishes lamely.

Dean can feel the blood rushing to his face, he's gotta look redder than Sammy that time he got allergies. Fuck everything.

Castiel coughs awkwardly and hastens to stand up stumbling with the table on his way up and whispering a low insult. In a moment the teacher is giving Dean a distressed smile - which Dean suspects the man's trying to pass as comforting as he mumbles an automatic "Thanks"- and in the other he's snatching both plate and glass from Dean, hurrying to the kitchen.

"Thanks for your lovely company, Mr. Winchester. It was most enjoyable chatting with you" comes the voice from the kitchen over the sound of plates clashing in the sink.

As uncomfortable as Dean's made this with his prattle, he's going to clear things out, because it's been almost six months, and because he loves making his teacher smile, and because he needs to get this the fuck off his chest or else it'll be an eternal nagging voice inside his head.

"Wait, Mr. Novak!" Castiel opens the tap as soon as he sees Dean entering the kitchen with resolved pace, he looks uncomfortable.

Bringing this sense of discomfort to Castiel's home makes Dean hate himself more. This was such a bad idea.

Castiel doesn't step back as Dean invades his personal space, nor when the teenager lifts his chin with two of his fingers and whispers a timid "Hey"

"Mr. Winchester... You shouldn't-"

Taking both of Cas' elegant pale hands in his, Dean plucks the courage and begins, voice breaking every now and then, and getting higher at the end of what should sound like sentences, not inquiries.

"Look... I think you're a great guy. I think you're awesome...but not because you're smart even if you are, you're a genius, okay? But, uh I think I really like you? Dude, I can't even pay attention in class 'cos my dick jumps up with that voice you've got." Cas looks like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights. "Sorry, but it's true. And well... you're so... Castiel. _Cas._"

"Dean, no. This isn't okay, you know it's not."

In spite of knowing where it all would end, it still hurts to hear those words. The need to be closer, to smell, to feel, to touch arises in Dean and he buries his head in the crook of Cas' neck inhaling the scent of soap and sweat and _Cas_. He kisses Castiel's neck with quick presses of his lips mapping a trail along the stubble. "Cas"

"We can't, Dean. Don't, please. We can't." The teacher's voice sounds broken and exasperated but Dean won't let go of him that easily.

"Why not?" Dean pulls back just enough to scrutinize with green shimmering eyes at Cas' face.

There's indecision and desire, he's sure of it. His hands on Cas' nape, foreheads pressing against each other as well as their lower bodies. He can feel heat radiating from Cas, and suddenly the need to bathe in that warmth grows stronger.

The hardness crushing against his own doesn't help.

"I liked you since I saw you, but now? You won't leave my head, Cas. _Please_"

Castiel clutches his forearms and detaches Dean from his body with an unexpected, yet gentle tug. "Dean, are you even listening to yourself? I'm your teacher, I'm thirty-two, and I'm not what you need. I'm not good for you, Dean. This _isn't_ okay."

"You like me, I probably more than like you... Hell, I've been mooning over you since forever and no one cares you're thirty two! I don't care, c'mon Cas"

Dean yanks Castiel closer and pulls him into a deep kiss, all tongues and teeth, and his lips are possibly gonna be bruised tomorrow but Cas tastes fucking amazing. Dean swirls his tongue and licks the roof of Cas' mouth retreating only to pay attention to Castiel's bottom lip, nibbling and sucking. Cas' hands, no longer trying to throw him away, have settled on his head, pulling his short hair, drawing him closer, leaving him dizzy when none of them are able to breathe any longer.

Dean bites playfully at Cas' earlobe eliciting a moan from the older man that makes his entire body shiver and his hips thrust forwards looking for the oh so dear friction he needs.

It's becoming intoxicating, being so close to Castiel but not touching his bare skin, not leaving marks. It isn't enough.

Next thing Dean knows, Cas is practically manhandling him to another room, hopefully one with a bed.

It's damn hard to get there, though, with neither wanting to be more than a centimeter away and all that.

Then Cas kisses him hard against the wall taking charge of their heated dance. Dean turns redder when he lets out little needy noises from the back of his throat, it's all so overwhelming and desperate, the need to fuck, to be one.

Castiel smirks and sucks marks on the unblemished skin of Dean's neck. Unsatisfied, he disposes of the teenager's shirt with swift movements and begins to stroke his sides whilst giving the kid's jaw special attention.

"Mhmm, Cas. So good" not longer able to focus on anything other than the feeling of Cas biting and sucking and licking, Dean's eyelids flutter and he mewls.

Cas gets rid of his own shirt not without difficulties and palms himself over the fabric of his black slacks and opens the zipper freeing his erection from the restraint of cloth. The head of his dick is flushed and beaded with precome.

Dean licks his lips.

The gesture doesn't escape Castiel's notice. The teacher gives his cock a few strokes and shuts his eyes only to reopen them when the weight of another hand settles over his, accelerating the rhythm and making his dick more sensitive.

Dean looks fucked out, his lips cherry red are glistening with remnants of saliva, and the marks on his chest and neck are already forming, not to mention the bliss of his expression.

"Cas, baby... lemme take care of you. Will you let me?"

"Y-yes, Dean. Whatever you want. You have me"

That's all permission Dean needs to take Cas straight to the softness of the bed with its dark red sheets, which are most surely gonna be in need of a good wash after they're done.

Cas is lying wholly naked on the bed with eagerness written all over his prettily blushed face.

"Dean"

"I got you, babe. I'm here" Straddling his waist Dean fishes down to catch Cas' lips in his and brushes a lock of hair from his face muttering words he won't remember later.

Cas hums appreciatively in the middle of the kiss bringing up his hands and neglecting his erection to cup Dean's ass globes and squeezing. "More"

Castiel's body seems smaller from above but he is neither frail nor weak, hips lunging upwards fruitlessly with the weight of Dean above him, his long fingers caressing Dean's back with frenzy devotion.

"Dean. I've wanted you so badly. Since the first day I knew you were gonna be trouble, you're just ahh soo..." one of his hands flies southwards and then it's sheathed between the teenager's ass cheeks, prodding at his tight hole gently.

"Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy" says Dean between repressed whimpers and chuckles in a pleased voice.

The teenager moves down to where Castiel's chest is rising up and down, up and down. The skin is salty on his tongue, Cas' breath shudders as Dean closes his lips around a nipple and toys with the aroused flesh leaving it sensible and pebbled.

There's a steady litany on Cas' lips, Dean's name falling out of his mouth more like an elongated sigh.

Dean loves this part. The foreplay. He could live off of it, the enthralling sense of making your partner surrender, to make the other person feel good and in this case worshipped. He wants everything, all of it, with Cas.

But being the horny teenager he is, suffering the harsh treatment of hormones he can't help but want to speed up so he doesn't come too absurdly soon.

The image Dean gets the moment he lifts his eyes is one Castiel, eyes hungry with lust and desire, lips curled in a self-satisfactory smirk which shouldn't look smug _and_ innocent.

Dean wipes it off in an instant, hands clutching Cas' face drinking him in. Castiel keeps his hands and talented fingers to Dean's muscled back and round ass.

"I wanna ride you, Cas."

"That so?" The teacher is still teasing Dean's hole, it keeps getting tighter each time he attempts to introduce even the tip of his digit, but kid's not lubed and Castiel wouldn't dream of ruining that sweet ass in a million years.

"Yes"

"Lube. Condoms. First drawer on your left"

Shifting position gives Dean full awareness of how hard he is. His dick is fully erect and pressing upwards, its head dripping and purple-red.

Kneeling on the red sheets Dean admires Castiel's lithe body so wanton and keen. It's as if the teacher is a Christmas present, the best one ever to be made and it's all for Dean.

Dean takes Cas place and spreads his legs wide open granting the other man full access to his hole. It feels so _empty_.

Castiel pours a generous quantity of the transparent substance on his fingers. He pokes at Dean's entrance with his middle finger lightly and grins at the response he gets from Dean, who is purring under his breath and opening his legs even wider.

"Shh, it's fine, Dean" he tries to soothe the boy.

Dean's hole is refusing to accept his digit at first but then it devours it all at once up to the knuckle. Cas moves it on the inside deeper and deeper, distracted by Dean calling his name and fucking himself on the digit, glad out of his mind when it hits his prostate. Then Cas adds another finger and another. Dean's hole isn't satisfied though, it keeps sucking them wanting to get more and more. He's stretched as he can be, and none of them have the patience to keep a slow pace.

They shift positions once more, Cas lying down ready to be ridden like a stallion, and Dean watching him from above with hungry eyes.

Quickly, Dean tears open the condom with his teeth. He fears he won't last long. The mere stare of Cas could make him shoot his load.

Dean himself puts the condom on Cas' dick, only after mouthing the head and feeling the weight of it in his hand, closing it to appreciate its thick girth.

Cas moves to a half-sitting position, his elbows serving as supporters. The yearning his body exhibits makes Dean's cock leak even more. He's gotta get started if he doesn't want this show ending before even starting.

The insane amount of lube on Cas' dick –and Dean's asshole- makes it slippery for Dean's hand to manipulate, but hey…too much lube never did no harm, right?

"Have you done this before, Dean?" asks Castiel, concern tinged in his mellow voice.

"Fucking? Yes. Riding? No" truth be told, Dean's had anal sex before but he's never tried riding a dick, it's always been a matter of a dick drilling him or him thrusting inside the other guy, but chicks seemed to like bouncing up and down his cock well enough, they friggin' love it.

Dean likes –loves?—Castiel. He'd love to ride the hell out of his dick.

"Okay. I want you to go slow, Dean. I could never forgive myself hurting you, just—"

"Hush" Dean lays a soft kiss on the man's cheek "You could never. Now… you gonna let me fuck myself on your dick or what?"

"Impatient"

Cas gestures Dean to proceed.

Dean rises and takes hold of Castiel's cock, his own dick giving twitches in anticipation to what's been his jerk off fantasy for months.

When he can feel the tip pressing against his hole, Dean takes a last look at Cas, who's gritting his teeth and panting, and closes his eyes, opening all his other senses to the feeling of being penetrated by this marvelous big cock.

At first it's just the feeling of having something foreign stuck up there, but then Cas' dick starts easing its way inside and stretching the tight channel while Dean's ass opens up to receive him, greedy to have it all inside.

Both men groan through the whole process, and Dean's left out of breath once he's fully seated atop Cas, full of him to the hilt.

Castiel stares and stares and stares at the young man, cherishing the blissful expression only he can give him. At least this one time.

It's stupid and selfish and childish, to be so incredibly happy about being the one to have Dean like this, with his mouth fixed in a little 'o' and his body lax, all sweaty and defenseless.

It's stupid, yet he can't shake the feeling that it's also _right_.

As if on cue, Dean opens his eyes revealing dilated pupils, only a thin green rim remains.

The teenager moves with slow up-and-down motions at first, evidently inexperienced with this position, but a single slam to his sweet spot is enough to make him speed up his pace, Castiel thrusting in sync to meet the boy's ass pouncing as hard as his position lets him.

"Fuck, Cas! Ah, baby. Your… your cock feels so g-good inside me" the voice comes out strangled and desperate, completely swallowed by passion.

Usually, Castiel isn't one for talk during sex. He's reduced to sounds and actions, and he's okay with that. But there's something about Dean, could be his young age, or beautiful everything, or the way Cas feels about him –something he isn't ready to label, not yet—that compels the teacher to give Dean whatever he wants.

"You feel even better, Dean. So hot and tight. God, your hole's just so… insatiable."

"Ah… Cas" Dean's dick feels like exploding but right now all his owner can think about is the cock that's hitting his prostate with each lunge making him see stars, the steady presence of shoulders that support his weight, the way said cock leaves him empty just to push back in claiming stake and the way his body is so pliant and willing to take it in.

Castiel doesn't neglect the teenager's erected penis. With a hand he gives the shaft soft tugs and strokes. He can feel how close they both are to come, how the climax approaches each time Dean greedily feeds the pulsing cock to his ass and his face scrunches with pleasure.

Dean comes with a high cry of "Caaaaas!" and spills his seed all over himself and Castiel's and chest, hole clenching around the teacher's cock.

Castiel lasts little longer and chants Dean's name as he rides his orgasm, Dean splayed over him completely worn out.

They lie there for what feels like hours. Castiel stirs first and lovingly disentangles himself from the sleepy teenager, pulling out careful not to wake him.

Next, Cas grabs a wet cloth and cleans Dean's come before it dries out, relishing the moment.

Dean blinks lazily and looks up at Cas. Cas who is sitting next to him, with a piece of cloth in his hand, and a lovey-dovey smile on his face. Cas who is intelligent and genuine and has a not-so-funny sense of humor. Cas who is his English teacher and is thirty-two and is the most breathtaking person Dean could lay his eyes upon. Cas who Dean might be a little in love with.

"Hey, babe" Dean holds out a hand Cas accepts with a shy smile. "Come here."

Dean lets Cas snuggle him from behind, draping an arm over his middle and pulling him closer, their legs tangled together in a mess. Castiel kisses the back of his neck and Dean's pretty sure Cas is also inhaling the scent of his sweaty hair.

The teenager sighs contently and kisses Castiel's hand with devotion. Red sheets cover their naked bodies; they're a little soaked though, but that was expected.

Maybe the sheets will need more than a little wash after they're done with them. After all, they've got seven months to catch up with.


End file.
